


Sleepover

by n_nami



Series: 31 Cockles AUs in 31 days [11]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddling, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3160637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Jensen/Misha stories - a new installment is posted every day throughout January 2015.</p><p>Nr. 11: Kids and drunk people always tell the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepover

Misha sighs.

It's not like he minds the position he's in, with Jensen draped over him, sleeping the dreamless sleep of the righteous and truly drunk. That's what he gets for trying to get Jensen into bed, and not in the fun way. Jensen is drunk, seriously wasted, like one of them tends to be when they're at one of Christian's house parties.

Usually, Misha is the one who gets so stoned that he has to skip all his Monday morning classes, but this is one of the rare times that Jensen has had a bit much to drink.

Misha sighs again and surrenders. They're in one of the spare bedrooms, on a bare mattress with only one sheet, and Jensen has effectively trapped him underneath his long legs and locked them into place.

With a bit of effort, Misha manages to unbuckle his belt and kick off his jeans, which makes Jensen hold on tighter as soon as he feels Misha squirming under himself.

“Mish, you're making me seasick,” Jensen complains drowsily, muttered into Misha's neck, hot breath on sensitive skin. “Lemme sleep.”

Before Misha can protest, Jensen's breath has evened out into tiny little snores again. Hoping that Jensen will not wake up with the imminent need to puke his guts out, Misha allows himself to wrap his arms around Jensen's waist, for comfort and stability and reasons Misha doesn't want to explore – can't, because Jensen is his friend, has been his roommate since freshman year, and Misha doesn't even know if he swings that way and he doesn't want to ruin this--

It takes some focus to pierce through the fog that the blunt he had with Mike earlier left and remind himself that rambling won't help him.

So Misha takes the situation for what it is and tries to ignore Jensen nudging his head under Misha's chin, burying his face in Misha's neck and sniffling adorably.

His hair smells of his fancy Lush shampoo, fresh sea salt and hair product, and Misha wants to bury his nose in it for the foreseeable future.

Instead, he leans back and falls asleep.

***

Misha wakes up in the middle of the night, the bed empty beside him with the sheets still warm. For a second, he's too sleepy to panic, but then he realizes what it means.

Jensen is gone.

Before he can decide how to react, he hears the toilet flush in the bathroom down the hallway. Careful steps tap towards the door to the bedroom, and in stumbles Jensen not a second later.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he whispers as he crawls back under the sheet.

“No, I-- yes. No, I have no idea. I just woke up like a second ago,” Misha shakes his head. “You good?”

“Yeah, just needed to hit the head.”

Now that they've both sobered up some, it's a bit tight to fit both of them into a queen-sized bed.

“Let's sleep some more,” Jensen yawns. “We can go back home when I can walk straight again.”

“It's still dark outside, anyway. Good night, Jensen.”

“Night, Misha.”

The next few minutes are tense, then awkward, then tense again. Jensen doesn't sleep, his breathing gives it away. Instead he twists and turns, shoves his hand under his head, scratches his belly, rolls onto his stomach, rolls back to his side facing away from Misha and managing to bump his ass against Misha's under the duvet.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” Misha groans eventually and grabs Jensen's shoulder to turn him onto his back. Then he flops down onto Jensen's chest, sprawls over his torso, and rests his cheek against Jensen's shoulder.

Jensen sighs.

Then he kisses Misha's forehead.

“We're gonna talk about this in the morning, you know,” Jensen murmurs into Misha's ear.

“Please,” Misha finds himself mouthing against Jensen's neck. It maybe comes out a bit breathy and with a lot more sexual innuendo than Misha intended.

“Mish?” Jensen nudges his forehead with his nose, and damn him, the adorable bastard. As if Misha's heart wasn't ridiculously biased anyway.

It only goes downhill from there.

In an attempt to get an inch or two between them, Misha manages to brush his hips against Jensen's – or rather, his hard cock against Jensen's crotch.

Jensen groans and exhales through his nose, his eyes pressed shut. “Shit.”

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” Misha hurries to apologize.

“No, don't be,” Jensen leans his head against Misha's, then turns onto his side in Misha's arms.

His right hand, which had been resting on Misha's shoulder, runs down his spine, leaving a trail of hot and cold shivers in its wake. While Misha still tries to analyze in his fuzzy, sleep-addled brain what it all means, Jensen splays his hand open at the small of his back and rubs their crotches together.

And Jensen is unmistakably just as hard as Misha.

Misha's eyes fly open to find Jensen looking at him with half-lidded eyes and a lazy grin. “See? Don't be sorry.”

“Jay, this is a bad idea right now.”

Jensen falters in his moves and frowns. “By right now, you mean right now, right?”

“Yeah, you... you're drunk, I'm still mostly stoned, and we should really talk about this in the morning,” Misha reasons, although his body screams to give in, demands touches and kisses and Jensen naked in his arms, bare skin on bare skin.

“Whatever you say, honey,” he grins.

The next second, Misha finds himself on his back with Jensen curled up in his arms.

“Night, sleepyhead,” Misha teases and kisses the top of Jensen's head.

“Shut your face and sleep,” Jensen answers, in such a fond tone that it makes Misha all flustered once again. Then he plants a kiss right onto the pulse point behind Misha's ear and it takes all the self-control Misha has in his current state not to whimper.

“Gonna be the end of me, I swear,” Misha mutters minutes later, when his breathing has returned to normal and Jensen is once again slumbering on his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Some fluff for Fehla :)


End file.
